


The Scent of Rose

by LiterallyThePresident



Category: Inn Between (Podcast)
Genre: But Meltyre does not yet know it’s mutual, Fluff, M/M, Meltyre is absolutely smitten, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pre-Relationship, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21690394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiterallyThePresident/pseuds/LiterallyThePresident
Summary: Meltyre is a big gay disaster, and Sterling commits the very rude crime of EWP (Existing While Pretty)
Relationships: Sterling Whitetower/Meltyre (Inn Between)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 41





	The Scent of Rose

Sterling was a very pretty man.

This was nothing new, nothing surprising, but somehow the fact took Meltyre by surprise every single time. A man of such unbelievable beauty shouldn’t even look twice at Meltyre, plain and ordinary with his unimpressive height and hand-me-down clothes, and yet he’d pledged his life to him without a second thought. When Sterling had fallen to his knees and pulled out his sword, vowing to protect Meltyre or die trying, the wizard had honestly thought his heart would stop then and there.  _ What a way to go _ , he remembered thinking faintly,  _ to fall dead into Sterling’s arms like a swooning maiden _ . 

It was the little things that got to him, like how Sterling touched him often and without restraint, a clap on the back or a friendly arm wrapped around his shoulders. A brief hug after a long fight. Every time, without fail, it reduced Meltyre into a stuttering mess, barely able to string a sentence together. He was certain the others noticed, given the winks from Fina, the encouraging smiles from Velune, the blunt comments from Betty. He could only thank the stars that Sterling seemed oblivious to his silly crush. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle his certain rejection, his distance. He told himself that having Sterling’s friendship was more than enough, and sometimes he almost believed it. 

It didn’t help Meltyre’s case at all that Sterling seemed to crave touch with a voracity that spoke of a lifetime of holding himself back from seeking affection (which was unacceptable to Meltyre, absolutely unacceptable). In battle, he seemed to take every opportunity presented to him to manhandle Meltyre, shoving him behind him or pushing him out of the way of incoming fire, once or twice physically hefting him up to carry him from danger like he weighed nothing. On one memorable occasion, he’d thrown himself bodily over Meltyre to shield him, pressing him so close he’d felt dizzy until the danger had passed. Then he‘d looked down at Meltyre with such gentleness in those amber eyes, and his voice was so soft when he asked if he was alright, and Meltyre had melted a little more. 

Whenever Sterling came near him, Meltyre caught a whiff of the rosy scent of his fancy soap, and the dizzying urge to bury his face into that soft raven hair would present himself and he’d have to hurriedly look away lest his blush betray his thoughts. Just being near Sterling was its own form of the sweetest torture, a trying test of his own restraint. He’d stopped drinking when the others did, not wanting to take the risk of doing something embarrassing that would drive the paladin away. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself then. 

Sterling was so, so pretty. And Meltyre was so, so weak.

At this moment, Meltyre was seated at a table a few feet away from the others, cheek resting on his fist as he gazed at Sterling with undisguised affection. Sterling was talking animatedly to the others, hands weaving a tapestry in the air as he told a story to the giggling group. His long dark hair was out of its usual braid, inky locks cascading down his back like a waterfall, his smile bright and golden eyes shining with mirth as he captivated them with whatever tale he was spinning. 

Stars. He was so unbelievably pretty. It wasn’t fair. 

It was the eyes, he thought to himself. Those eyes that had stopped Meltyre short the day they had met. Those eyes that shone with such sincerity, such passion whenever he spoke. Eyes that had softened over time from molten gold to gentle citrine. Eyes that, despite Meltyre’s countless failures, still looked at him with affection and care. 

“Meltyre!” the call of his name broke him from his thoughts. Sterling was beckoning him over with a wide smile, “Meltyre, what are you doing over there all alone? Come join us! The friar was just about to tell us some tales from their youth!” Meltyre swallowed, but he was helpless against this man. He pushed away from the table towards them, but he was distracted by Sterling’s smile, and his foot caught on the table leg. He went down with a yelp, closing his eyes to brace for impact. He heard a cry of his name, the screech of wood on wood, and firm arms caught him around the middle before he could hit the floor. Crisis averted, Meltyre nervously opened his eyes, and he was greeted with worried golden eyes. Oh good, a new crisis then. 

“Meltyre!” Stars, he could listen to that melodious voice say his name for hours, “Meltyre, by Cuthbert, are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah.” he stammered, his face on fire. He couldn’t help but notice that Sterling had not let go of him, his arms were warm and resting comfortably around him like they had no intent to move, holding him steady, “Sorry. Ha... clumsy me!” he tried to joke, and he was rewarded with a truly dazzling smile.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” he laughed, “Happens to the best of us. Is your ankle alright?”

“Y-Yep!” he stammered, mind fizzling a little at Sterling’s proximity. This close, he could see each individual eyelash, long and elegant. He could see the faint white scar just above his eyebrow, a memento of his early training days, the beauty mark just under his eye. The scent of his rosy soap was almost overwhelming, and Meltyre had a moment where he was certain he was about to faint. Thankfully he didn’t, but it was a close call when Sterling’s hand pressed to the small of his back, drawing him closer. His brow furrowed with concern as he laid a hand across Meltyre’s forehead, making a sound of worry as Meltyre‘s brain fried right then and there.

“Why, Meltyre!” he gasped, “You’re burning up!”

“Um....” oh no oh no oh no, “I-I’m sick!” he panicked, the lie springing to his lips easily. Better Sterling avoid him like the plague for fear of illness than to realize his feelings. But, to his surprise, Sterling didn’t immediately put distance between them. Rather, his eyes widened for a moment before going soft. 

“You’re sick?” he asked tenderly, “By Cuthbert, Meltyre, what are you doing walking around when you’re ill?”

“I-It’s fine.” he said quickly, guilt at the lie already setting in, “You don’t have to worry about me, Sterling.”

“Nonsense.” Sterling scooped him into his arms without warning, holding him like a bride seemingly without effort. Meltyre felt his brain go completely fuzzy in his skull, all thought processes stopping dead as he found himself unable to form any semblance of thought that wasn’t  _ Sterling _ or  _ Strong _ or  _ Oh Stars _ . He could vaguely hear the others whistling from their table, hooting and calling out jokes and jibes, but all his senses were hyper focused on Sterling. He tried to form words, but his tongue was heavy and clumsy. On instinct he’d slipped his arms around Sterling’s shoulders for a better grasp, and the feeling of warm muscle under his hands was making thinking very difficult. 

“I-I... I...” he stammered, certain he was going to catch fire at any moment. His inability to form words only seemed to concern Sterling more.

“Come. I’ll escort you to your room. You need to be resting, Meltyre. I do wish you’d pay more attention to your health.” Meltyre made a frankly embarrassing sound as Sterling started walking. Admittedly, the few times he’d imagined Sterling carrying him to his bedroom, this was not the scenario he’d had in mind. He immediately tamped down on such thoughts before they could progress any further, but Sterling did  _ not _ make it easy on him by taking the stairs with a whole wizard in his arms without breaking a sweat. 

“You really don’t have to do this.” Meltyre muttered, wishing that for once in his life his voice could be steady, “It’s okay, really, I’m fine.”

“I may not have to, but I want to.” Sterling smiled down at him, his hair slipping a little, dark locks falling onto Meltyre, and it was an honest battle not to twist them around his fingers to see if it was as soft as it looked. Meltyre rarely locked his door, having nothing of value to steal, and Sterling had no trouble pushing the door open. He sent a concerned glance at the door as he pushed in, letting it swing closed behind them. 

“Do you often keep your door unlocked?” he asked as he carried Meltyre inside, and Meltyre blinked up at him.

“Yes?” he replied, confused, “I don’t have anything worth stealing, and all my coin goes to my sisters.” The crease between Sterling’s brow grew deeper, and he stopped in the middle of the room, still showing no sign that Meltyre was any burden to carry.

“Meltyre, that’s dangerous. What if someone breaks in to kill you?” he asked, and Meltyre blinked.

“I don’t have any enemies.” he said honestly, “And I have spells in place to wake me if anyone armed comes in.” That didn’t seem to ease Sterling’s mind at all, and Meltyre wondered what he’d said wrong. He dutifully ignored the small part of him that flared in pleasure at the idea that Sterling was worried about him. 

“What if they intend to kill you without a weapon? Or what if someone entered with intent to... to take advantage of you!?” he asked, seeming genuinely distressed, and Meltyre gave him a reassuring smile.

“Don’t scum like that usually go for beautiful people?” he asked, “So I’m safe, see?” Sterling made a sound he couldn’t decipher at that, his eyes widening. 

“What do you mean, Meltyre?” he asked softly, pulling him closer almost absently, “You are beautiful.” Meltyre laughed slightly at that, flushing and hiding the lower half of his face in his scarf. 

“You don’t have to placate me.” he mumbled to him, “I’m okay with being plain. Besides, you’re pretty enough for the both of us.” 

“ _ Plain _ !?” Sterling squawked with an indignation that took Meltyre by surprise, “Who told you you were plain?”

“Told... me?” he blinked, lifting from the scarf slightly, and Sterling adjusted him more securely in his arms. 

“Give me their name and I will make them pay.” he said, deathly serious, “Anyone who would call you of all people plain is either blind or stupid, I’ll set them straight.” His eyes burned with conviction, and Meltyre found himself almost believing him, drawn in as always by his utter surety. 

“No one told me that.” he said slowly, trying not to read too much into it. Sterling would say the same thing to any of their friends, surely, “It’s just the truth.”

“It is  _ not _ !” Sterling huffed, striding forward and setting him down in his bed. Meltyre immediately missed his warmth, “Meltyre, you are one of the most attractive men I’ve ever met! You’re bright and lovely and absolutely brilliant, and I will not suffer this sort of talk from you a moment longer. Now, as for the door issue, if you won’t lock your door, I will be moving to the room next to yours. I am a light sleeper, so no one will harm you without me hearing.” Meltyre wanted to argue, he really did, but he was a little hung up on the fact that  _ Sterling Whitetower _ had called  _ him _ attractive. All he could do was gape as Sterling fussed over him, muttering to himself and huffing in displeasure as he fluffed Meltyre’s pillow and examined the blankets, grumbling at the low quality. He muttered with annoyance about getting Meltyre better blankets before checking his temperature again, humming to himself at the heat he still felt, the heat he’d mistaken for fever and now had Meltyre too scared to correct him lest he reveal himself as a fool. However, he couldn’t hold his tongue when Sterling made to remove Meltyre’s shoes.

“S-Sterling!” he startled, trying to pull away, “Y-You really don’t have to-“

“Hush.” Sterling fixed him with a stern look, gripping his ankle firmly as he finished removing the shoes, “I made a promise to you, did I not? That I would return you to your sisters or die in the attempt. That promise does not only extend to combat, but to your health as well. I will not sit idly by while you languish in illness, any more than I could continue allowing you sleep without protection.” 

“I-“

“Hush.” he said again, “Take off your robes.”

“ _ Wh-What _ ?” he squawked, and Sterling seemed to realize how that sounded. He flushed and stammered, and curse him for making even that look so good.

“I-I just meant-“ he cleared his throat, “I just meant that you shouldn’t sleep in your travel clothes. Where are your night clothes, I’ll grab them for you. Don’t worry, I can grant you privacy while you change.” Meltyre’s face was once again on fire, and he wondered if the day would ever come where Sterling didn’t render him completely useless. He reluctantly directed Sterling to where he kept his night clothes, and he stared at the floor rather than Sterling’s back as he changed into them. They were really just pants and a gauzy wraparound, as he tended to run hotter than non-magic users. When he finished, he folded his travel clothes neatly and placed them on the nightstand.

“Okay.” he said so Sterling knew it was safe to turn around. He made to get back under the covers, but he jumped a little when he heard Sterling make a strangled sound at the back of his throat. When he looked at him in alarm, Sterling was staring intently at him with an unidentifiable expression, and Meltyre swore he saw a dusting of pink across his elegant face.

“...Sterling?” he asked with concern, and Sterling seemed to snap out whatever trance he was in, as he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“My… My apologies, Meltyre.” he said, his voice oddly hoarse, “I simply… I was not expecting you to be shirtless is all.”

“Oh.” Meltyre flushed, remembering too late that he tended to flush all the way down to his chest. How embarrassing, “S-Sorry. I can put on a shirt, here, give me a second.”

“No no.” Sterling halted him with a hand on his shoulder, easing him back down into the bed. His face was still a bit pink, and Meltyre worried it was too warm in here for him even through the wild haze of  _ I’m shirtless and Sterling is here and he’s pushing me into bed and  _ **_stop it brain_ ** _ , _ “It’s fine, really. It simply took me by surprise, is all. I… I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not completely covered with robes and scarves and that big hat of yours.”

“Ah.” he flushed. Ah. It made sense. Meltyre was in decent shape thanks to growing up on a farm, but his physique was nowhere near as impressive as Sterling’s. Sterling was all angles and hard muscle, a perfect body shaped by a lifetime of training. It made sense that Meltyre paled in comparison. Sterling was staring again, his gaze focused on his chest for a reason Meltyre couldn’t discern, and he shivered under his gaze, fighting the self-conscious urge to futilely try and cover himself with the wraparound. Sterling seemed to mistake the shiver for one of cold, as he blinked again and squeezed his shoulder, pulling the blanket up around him and thankfully shielding him from Sterling’s burning gaze. 

He didn’t look into those eyes. He didn’t want to see the disappointment that surely resided there. 

“Meltyre.” Sterling started cautiously, and Meltyre blinked.

“Yes?”

“I…” if he didn’t know any better, he’d say Sterling looked nervous, “I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable.”

“What?” he blinked, surprised, “Me?” Sterling nodded, looking completely serious.

“I realize only now that my behavior this evening has been rather… presumptuous.” he said, and the pink was back on his face, “It was not my intention to baby you, or to make you feel as though you couldn’t speak to me.”

“Sterling, what are you talking about?” he asked, genuinely confused, “You haven’t made me uncomfortable. If anything, I’m worried I made  _ you _ uncomfortable.” Sterling seemed surprised at that, blinking. 

“You? Why Meltyre, you’ve done absolutely nothing wrong.” except faking illness to avoid admitting to a crush, but Meltyre kept quiet on that one, “I am the one who manhandled you and all but ordered you to disrobe.” Meltyre flushed at that, but managed to look him in the eyes despite the liquid warmth that always flooded him when met with the full force of that gaze.

“I didn’t mind.” he said with as much conviction as he could muster, “I really didn’t. It… honestly it felt kinda nice. I’m used to taking care of my sisters, I haven’t had anyone to take care of me since my parents. You fussing over me… it made me feel cared for.” His courage faltered at the look in Sterling’s eyes, and his eyes dropped down to the blankets, “Sorry, that probably sounded really weird, huh?”

“Not at all!” warm hands clasped his unexpectedly, and Meltyre looked up to see that Sterling had gotten much closer, practically straddling him as he knelt over him. Meltyre felt like he was literally going to explode, and he knew the image of Sterling straddling his legs in his bed was going to haunt him despite his best efforts.

“It’s not?” he asked, and his voice broke a little. Sterling nodded earnestly, squeezing his hands firmly, and  _ oh _ Meltyre would do  _ anything _ for this man.

“Not at all.” Sterling said with utter sincerity, “Meltyre, why did you not tell anyone?”

“Tell anyone?” he stammered, reminded once again how  _ pretty _ Sterling was, “Why would I? It’s not really a problem.”

“Problem? Meltyre, it’s a  _ crime _ .” Sterling tugged him closer until he was close enough that he could wrap his arms around him and hug him tight. Meltyre was pretty sure he’d died and gone to the astral plane, because Sterling Whitetower was in his bed, in his lap,  _ hugging _ him. If this was the astral plane, then he’d happily stay here forever.

“C-Crime?” he managed to push past the stars in his eyes to squeak, and Sterling turned his head until his lips were mere inches away from his ear. Meltyre could have sworn he heard an inhale, as though Sterling were smelling his hair, but he immediately dismissed it as his own fanciful imagination.

“An absolute crime.” oh no oh no his voice was little more than a whisper ghosting across the shell of his ear, causing his skin to break out with goosebumps, “Meltyre, the very idea that no one has been taking care of you is not only absolutely reprehensible, but it also fills me with shame.”

“Shame?” Meltyre’s voice matched Sterling’s, soft and quiet. Sterling nodded. 

“It’s my own fault as well. I haven’t been giving you the attention you deserve.” he murmured, “I swear, I will rectify this. I’m going to take care of you, Meltyre.”

“You don’t have to.” he whispered, feeling the strangest urge to cry, and Sterling tightened his embrace. Meltyre found himself hugging him back, ready to take any excuse to hold him. It felt so  _ right _ to have Sterling in his arms, like he belonged there. If only Meltyre was worth him.

“I want to.” Sterling murmured, “You’re… very important to me, Meltyre. I care about you very much. More than I-” he abruptly pulled away then, snapping his mouth shut as though he’d said more than he meant to. He smiled at Meltyre, squeezing his shoulders before letting go. He too seemed to realize the position they were in, and his face went a deep red and he all but scrambled off the bed in an undignified manner that made Meltyre stifle a giggle. Sterling cleared his throat and smoothed his hair back, trying to regain his dignity. 

“Thank you, Sterling.” Meltyre smiled softly, truly touched, “I really appreciate it.”

“Think nothing of it.” Sterling smiled back, “Do you need me to fetch you anything? Water? Medicine? Don’t be afraid to ask anything of me, name it and it’s yours.”

“I’m fine.” he waved quickly, “Seriously, I don’t need anything. You should go back downstairs, the others probably miss you.”

“Are you certain?” he asked, and Meltyre nodded, “Very well then. I will leave you be for tonight. I…” he paused, hesitating, and for a moment he looked so painfully vulnerable it made his heart ache, “Sleep well, Meltyre.” and just like that, the moment was gone. Meltyre shook himself, giving him what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Sleep well.” he echoed, and when Sterling reluctantly left, he buried in his face to muffle his scream of embarrassment and repression. Why did Sterling have to be so perfect? Why did he have to be so kind and earnest and wonderful? All of this would be so much easier if Sterling were still the pompous jerk he’d been when they first met. 

But if he was that man, Meltyre would never have fallen for him. And while it would be easier, he wouldn’t be as happy, as fulfilled as he was now. Meltyre’s sleep was restless that night, his thoughts haunted by Sterling’s words, his eyes, his voice. The memory of the easy way he held him, the strength in those strong arms, his hair in the candlelight, it whirled together in a rose-scented haze that filled his dreams with half-formed impressions of golden skin and molten eyes, warm arms holding him tight and soft lips whispering his name.

The next morning, he awoke to a freshly cooked breakfast, still warm and delivered right to his door by a shyly grinning Sterling, his hair down and his eyes shining, and that was the moment Meltyre realized he was in love. 


End file.
